The Middle Sister
by LadyOfWinterfellAbbey
Summary: The sun of the 1920s has just risen over Downton Abbey. One sister is to be married, the other married and pregnant. What about the middle sister? What will the 1920s have in store for her? Love? Heartbreak? Will her dreams come true or will they be shattered? Is Edith Crawley destined to be an old maid and a spinster for the rest of her days?
1. Chapter 1

_**January 1920**_

All eyes were on them, as they had been on many occasions before. Matthew and Mary sat beside each other on the settee, at a reasonable distance apart so as not to cause offense to some of the more conservative occupants of the room, yet they sat close enough as if to say 'we are a couple'.

"Have you any idea when you would like the wedding to be held?" Isobel, Matthew's mother asked. She was happy at the news, though was able to contain her happiness more than the bride-to-be's parents. Robert was pleased that he was finally able to call the man he thought of as a son his son-in-law, while Cora was delighted that the match she had hoped would come about between the two was finally happening.

"We were thinking May or June," Mary said. She had a genuine smile upon her face, rather than the fake one she wore often when in the company of her previous fiancé, Sir Richard Carlisle. "However, with Sybil and the baby, it would probably be best for us to move it forward a couple of months. Perhaps March."

"March?" Violet Crawley asked, raising her eyebrows. "Do you plan for us all to freeze?"

Matthew glanced towards his fiancé upon hearing her grandmother's question. One quickly learnt it was sensible not to double cross the formidable Dowager Countess. Her wit was as sharp as a steak knife and it was wise to consider a response before saying it.

"Last March was rather fine weather," Matthew put in with a small smile upon his face. "We would like to be married sooner rather than later after all."

"What I meant to say was May or June at the latest," Mary added.

"I suppose we'll just have to get our furs on," said Violet.

"I'm sure that bad weather won't dampen Matthew and Mary's special day," Isobel said with a smile towards Violet. "I remember on my own wedding day. It rained and rained, yet it was still one of the best days of my life."

"Our wedding day was in the summer and it was almost too hot. Do you remember your Great-Aunt Hester fainting?" Cora chuckled as she turned to Robert.

"I'm sure the woman was being overly dramatic."

"Hester was dramatic at my own wedding," Violet said. "Intolerable woman. My wedding day had perfect weather. It wasn't too hot, wasn't too cold. That's why September time is a good time for weddings."

Edith watched the scene with envy. She wagered that if there was a chance that she would ever be married, such a fuss would not be made over her. The changes of her ever finding a husband seemed slim. She wasn't seen as the beautiful sister or the exciting one, like Mary and Sybil were. She was just seen as the 'other' one. Many men who may have taken her had been killed in the war and the men available would surely pursue the prettier girls and never even glance towards Edith. There was Sir Anthony, though after the conversation between him and Mary at the garden party in 1914, he had hardly spoken a word towards her since. She didn't blame him. No man, not even a man such as Sir Anthony would want a spiteful toad like her.

Edith looked around, searching for an excuse for her to leave the room. She could hardly say she had business, for someone, particularly her grandmother would be likely to inquire what the business involved. Neither could she just walk out, declaring how she was bored of the conversation and wished that it was here in Mary's place, with a handsome, kind young man of her choosing in Matthew's. Instead she spotted Anna out of the corner of her eye, arranging a bouquet of flowers in the hall.

"Please excuse me," she said as she stood up. They all turned towards her with expressions which seemed to convey surprise, as if they had only just noticed she was there. "I have just spotted Anna. I forgot to ask her earlier about repairing one of my hats, so I'll just go and do that now."

Edith quickly exited the room, heading towards Anna's direction. Anna, hearing footsteps turned and bobbed into a curtsey.

"Morning Anna," Edith said as she briskly walked by.

"Moring My Lady," Anna replied before she turned back to the flower arrangement once Edith had walked past.

It was difficult being the middle Crawley sister. She was always overlooked, though she had heard that the middle child seemed to have some sort of 'curse'. It certainly seemed like that at times. She also found it difficult to make friends. Mixing with the men who were convalescing during the war seemed to help boost her confidence slightly, though she would never been as confident as either of her sisters. She was always one to be hiding in the shadows at parties, never wanting to step too far away from her parents or grandmother. It seemed to Edith that whenever she desired attention she never received it and whenever she didn't desire attention it was thrown upon her to the extent that Mary and other ladies would giggle at her flushed cheeks.

When she thought back to her early teens, she realised that she was never like this. She was in the company of Patrick then, however. He would always stand by her side and chat with her. He too, was rather shy, yet knew how to talk to people without his face turning the colour of a ripe beetroot. She missed him immensely and the pain was still ragged and raw in her heart after the Canadian pretender. Patrick had been dead for nearly eight years. It was time she stopped living in the past. She supposed that besides Anthony Strallan, he was the closest she had ever been to having a husband, or a man who enjoyed her company. Had the Canadian pretender actually been the real Patrick Crawley, perhaps she would have been married by now.

She recalled the time when Matthew first arrived at Downton. He was a handsome stranger from Manchester. Matthew was clever and kind and he too, like Edith struggled to find a place here. He was, in time accepted under the wing of her father and know felt a great sense of belonging. Edith had never felt that before in her life. She had enjoyed taking him around the churches of the area and how he seemed to hang onto her every word when she discussed all the features and details. But soon enough the conversation had turned to Mary. It was obvious from the beginning that he had taken a fancy to her, even if she was cruel and rather rude to him. Edith couldn't fathom why a man would be attracted to her elder sister. Yes, Mary was beautiful and charming in some senses, though she could also be very cruel and spiteful, as Edith knew from many years of being on the receiving end of her snide remarks.

She hoped that when the Pamuk scandal had come to light, thanks to the help of the kitchen hand, Daisy, that Mary would be knocked off her high horse. It was something that would destroy her father, she knew that, yet she still felt that it was unfair to those who knew Pamuk. She tried to imagine if the manner in which Patrick had died had been lied about and knew she would be devastated. Not only would she be doing what was fair, she would also be ruining her sister. Mary didn't seem to care for family loyalties, so why should she?

That was a long time ago now and the four years of war stood between knowing what seemed to be important and what really was important. She regretted, in a way, sending the letter to the Turkish Embassy. It had stained Anthony's affection for her. Mary would be married to Matthew by now, Sybil to Branson, or Tom as she was now to call him, and she to Anthony. It would be more or less exactly the way her parents had wanted it to happen. Their three daughters would be married off, perhaps with children and everyone would be merry. Sometimes she liked to ponder about fate and if something had or hadn't happened in the past, then perhaps something more recent would or wouldn't have happened too. Maybe if she had married Anthony then the war would never have happened. It was a foolish thought to have, but it made her feel a little better about herself. Edith realised that she should feel happy for her sisters. She felt happy for Sybil more than Mary; though that was probably just the childish feelings of dislike she had towards her elder sister. Sybil was married and expecting a baby. She had the man she wanted and had managed to convince, or almost convince, the family of his worth. She had to feel happy for Mary and Matthew in a way. She was fond of Matthew, even though they hardly ever talked. He was kind to her and polite and could strike up an interesting and intelligent conversation. Even though she disliked her sister, she didn't hate her. She could never bring herself to hate Mary. Edith would have to smile and put on a happy face, for if she did not, it was probable she would be accused of being envious and she would risk being branded as the 'ugly sister' who stood no chance at finding a husband due to being so bitter.

"Edith," called a voice from behind her. She turned and saw Mary striding towards her, a look of discontent on her face.

"Yes Mary?" Edith raised her eyebrows as she turned and gave her sister a small smile. "You didn't have to call off the visit on my account. It was all about you after all."

"You don't have to act like a jealous little toad all the time," Mary snapped at her. Her dark eyes shone with anger, yet there was also a hint of smugness in her voice.

"I would not be jealous Mary. I would be envious. Jealously is fear of losing something you had in your possession before. I never had Matthew in my possession and neither has there been any certain confirmation of my engagement. Besides, I am not envious. I merely had to rush to tell Anne to repair my hat because I'd probably have forgotten by later on."

Mary rolled her eyes and shook her head. Edith could tell that she was annoyed by being corrected. "That's funny. When I saw you talk to Anna it was merely a quick, curt acknowledgement and then you walked off. Your conversation was all over in a matter of seconds. Surely you could never have passed on your request in such a short amount of time?"

Edith opened her mouth to respond and then hesitated. "You know what Mary? It really is none of your business."

"It was rude. Come now, you're twenty five. Surely you should know your manners?"

"I…" Edith was cut off at the sight of Isobel walking towards them both. They both turned and smiled towards the older woman, any hint of their argument wiped from their features.

"I just thought I'd come to say goodbye to you both. I'm going back home. I'm organising some donations to go towards the families who lost men during the war. It's the least we can do. It's a while off at the moment, but I thought we could perhaps do something on Shrove Tuesday."

"That sounds like a wonderful idea," Edith said. "A tombola perhaps?"

"That sounds good to me," Isobel replied with a fond smile. "Perhaps you'd be interested in getting involved?"

"I'd love to lend a hand." Isobel was always kind to Edith. She knew more than Matthew what it was like to be an outsider in the family. Edith always enjoyed the time spent with her and she found that she wasn't as judgemental as her mother or grandmother.

"Perfect!" Isobel turned to Mary and Edith noticed the smile waver a little from her lips. "You'll be busy planning the wedding no doubt?"

"I will be, I'm afraid. It's a shame because I'd love to help out in some way. Perhaps I can find a few prizes for you?"

"Thank you Mary. Just small things. Maybe little stuffed toys for the children, a tipple for the adults. Perhaps a cake as well."

"I'll ask Mrs Patmore," Edith said.

"Mrs Bird will want to have a hand in trying to best her rival," Isobel joked.

"That's true. We mustn't let them both be unhappy. The more prizes the better. Even if everyone ends up winning something the money raised all goes towards a good cause."

"That's true," Isobel said as Carson helped her into her coat. "You and I can meet up soon Edith to make plans." She was about to turn away before stopping and catching sight of her daughter-in-law-to-be. "And if you need any help with making plans for the wedding, just let me know."

The two young women watched as Isobel left through the large, front doors. Carson closed the doors behind her and bowed respectfully to the two sisters before walking into the library to attend on Robert, Cora, Violet and Matthew, who was staying until the evening to discuss what he called 'estate matters' with Robert.

"It's nice to see that my future mother-in-law is fonder of you than she is me," Mary observed, once Carson was out of earshot.

"Oh, now who is getting worked up?" Edith asked with a sarcastic chuckle. "I saw nothing in her manner which may suggest or confirm your suspicions anyway. She and I are good friends. That is how good friends should speak to one another, is it not?"

"She's one of your few friends. I wouldn't say she's a good one," Mary replied coldly.

"Why do you always have to speak to me like that?"

"Like what?"

"You always have to try and put me down. I cannot remember the last nice thing you ever said about me or to me."

"It was probably before 1914, let's put it that way."

"If you are referring to the Pamuk incident?"

Mary's eyes grew wide and she put a finger over her lip. Edith had brought up a touchy subject. Mary always reacted like this whenever the Turkish man's name was mentioned. She could never give back what she had given to him. She was seen as tarnished and everyone knew it.

"You know I am. I suspect that many other people will be referring to it soon. Sir Richard Carlisle isn't too pleased with you. There is nothing stopping him from publishing the scandal."

"All the people I care about already know. It doesn't seem to shock them."

Edith chuckled. "Oh, Mary. I thought you knew this family. We Crawleys are like gardeners. We can dig and dig to bury our problems, yet when someone mentions it, the problem is just as big as it was before. No doubt Granny is disgusted by you. Mama had something to do with it, though I imagine at the time she wasn't too pleased. Papa, well, he was jolly well annoyed about Sybil and Branson. I can't imagine how annoyed he is with you."

"Stop!"

"And what about your future husband?"

"He doesn't care."

"Did he tell you that?"

"He implied it. I doubt he would have asked me to marry him if he found me repulsive."

"Remember, he's just as much a Crawley as you and I. Have you ever thought he's burying his true feelings?"

"It really isn't anything to do with you Edith."

"Oh but it is," Edith said with a smile which did not reach her eyes. "If one of us does something which isn't considered acceptable they drag the entire family down with them."

"Allow me to remind you that it was you who informed the Turkish embassy," Mary sighed before a small smirk came to her lips. "I really do not know why you keep on going on about this Edith. It's all in the past. If Richard publishes it in his newspapers so be it. I'll still have the love of my family and my husband. You only possess one of those, don't you?"

The smile quickly left Edith's face. It was very difficult to better Mary in an argument. She had a sharp wit and could easily outsmart her younger sister. Mary's remark had hit an old wound. She was constantly trying to bury the problem, yet Mary had dug it up again.

"Now that's shut you up," Mary said before turning back towards the library.

Edith stood still for a moment. She often wondered about the origin of the sister's mutual dislike to one another. It started in childhood, though she couldn't remember a time when the two weren't at each other's throats. She supposed that something must have started it off, yet however hard she tried to remember, she could not think of a legitimate reason. Thinking that she should perhaps head toward her bedroom upon thinking that she may be questions why she is still in the hall, she turned on her heel and ascended the stairs.

The maids had been in and made her bedroom look neat and tidy. She did not always like it that way. She enjoyed a little organised clutter, as it gave the room a slightly quaint feel. However she had not told the maids to leave the room slightly messy, due to them perhaps leaving any mess which she may have wanted to be removed. Edith paced the room slowly, kicking off her shoes due to her being in her own company. She unbuttoned the first two buttons of her blouse and untucked it from her skirt. Nobody was around to see her looking like this. In her own room she deserved to be comfortable and had the right to relax. She came to a halt when seeing the letter upon her desk. It was from Sybil in response to her receiving her Christmas present.

_Dear Edith,_

_Thank you for your Christmas gift, it's quite beautiful. One thing I never thought to buy was a nice, woollen scarf to keep me warm. It's quite cold in the city. Not the country cold we are used to, but a different kind. It's very difficult to explain and you probably think I'm quite mad! Tom also sends his thanks for his scarf too and I always tell him to wrap up warm before stepping out in the streets to go to work. Most of the times he listens and does as he's told!_

_The house is coming along nicely. We've hung some pictures and photographs in the lounge and dining room, including one of you and I together. I'm not quite sure when it was taken, though I believe it was before the war. You probably have a copy of it too. It was quite amusing deciding on where to hang the pictures. I wanted to cover the wall with beautiful artwork though Tom disagreed. He wanted to leave some space for photographs of the baby. I told him that he'd make all the photographers in the city rich due to his frequent patronage, though he replied that he intends to purchase his own camera. It is a lovely thought, though cameras are rather expensive and require special training to learn to use one. We will have to see how things work out. _

_Tom's job at the newspaper is going well. He reports on a variety of issues, such as cultural events in the city to the situation with the English. It worries me sometimes though. I know that there are other English people living in Dublin, just not many of them are the daughter of an Earl. The Irish aren't too fond of English aristocrats. However, I'm not sure whether you know that Mama has asked for Tom and I to return to England and live on a cottage on the estate? I would be lovely to be closer to home and to you all, especially when the baby arrives and he or she can be close to you. It's just Tom's work. He's set on working in Dublin and isn't too keen on returning to England, though he said he will if it's what I really want. I don't want to pressure him into doing something he does not want to do as that wouldn't be fair. There are rumours though that it may not be safe in Ireland for the English, due to some of the trouble which happened here over the past couple of years. We will just have to see. We are hoping that Tom may be able to get a transfer or acquire a suitable reference for him to be able to work for one of the big London or Yorkshire newspapers, though we all know who owns a majority of them, and we Crawleys aren't in his good books at the moment. _

_I will let you know soon about our decision. It's not the easiest of ones to make, though believe me, it's a darn sight easier than the one I had to make before I left for Ireland with Tom._

_Your loving sister,_

_Sybil. _

Edith sighed as she finished reading the letter. She missed her sister immensely, but she knew that she was happy. She had everything Edith could ever wish for. Granted, she may be living in conditions considered to be poor by the Crawley family, yet she was comfortable and enjoying married life with her husband, the man she loved dearly. She was having a baby too. Edith never thought that her younger sister would have a baby before her. She was happier for Sybil than she was for Mary though. It was difficult, near impossible to ever wish unhappiness on Sybil. Edith was sad that her sister was so far away, yet happy that she had the life she wanted. Edith sat down at the table and started to consider her own reply.

_Dear Sybil,_

_I'm so glad that you liked the scarf. I hope that it's keeping you nice and warm. It's been rather chilly over here the past few weeks and I have had to wrap up warm. Your new home sounds nice and cosy and it would be sad for you to move, yet we would all like you to return to England._

_I do not want you to think I'm pressuring you into doing anything you might not want to do, though we have heard stories of what's going on in England and the general Irish attitude towards the English and we just do not think that it's safe for you over there. Please consider returning to England soon. I would gladly help you make your new home on the estate lovely and cosy and you will never ben in want of anything while you are here. _

_We are all looking forward to meeting your little boy or girl and we miss you at lot. If you are worrying what we all think of Tom, just know that I'm happy to accept him as my brother-in-law and so long as he's always good and true to you, he will always have a friend in me. Papa and Granny still won't be convinced I'm afraid, at least not for a while, but you know what they both are like. They do miss you though and they are looking forward to the new arrival._

_I hope that you will reply as soon as you've received this, or at least buy a telephone, because I fear I'm going to lose my sanity without regular correspondence with you._

_Your loving sister,_

_Edith. _

She placed the lid upon her fountain pen, placed it in its mahogany case and dabbed the page with blotting paper to prevent the ink from smudging. Edith then wrote Sybil's address on an envelope and put the letter inside.

Relaxing back in her seat, she realised what Sybil had meant by there being nothing to do at Downton Abbey. It was a beautiful place to live and she knew that she was very fortunate to have been born into such an affluent family, particularly when some of the people who worked for the Crawleys hadn't been half as lucky, there was just hardly anything entertaining to do. She enjoyed reading books, though it seemed she had been through all the novels in the library and she didn't have any interest in the non-fiction titles. The grounds were enjoyable to take a stroll in, though it would be nice to have some company from time to time. In a way she yearned for the war to be back, for at least it gave her something to do.


	2. Chapter 2

Three days passed and Edith found herself sitting in Isobel's sitting room, the two women bent over plans and notes regarding the fundraiser. The top prize was to be a weekend away for two in Llandudno and was donated by Lord and Lady Grantham. Other prizes included bottles of wine, boxes of chocolate which Matthew was ordering from London and numerous other edible treats, baked and cooked in laborious competition by Mrs Patmore and Mrs Bird. There were to be toys for the children as well as pens, notebooks and art materials, as Isobel believed that they needed something entertaining, yet educational.

"The village hall is booked for Shrove Tuesday and other events will be happening there, such as activities involving pancakes and the usual little games which are entertaining," Isobel said as she put a tick against her notes. She had been doing it as they covered each point, making sure no detail was looked over. Edith admired her for that. She was a thinker and thinking things through often came with a positive outcome. Not thinking things through, however, usually came with a negative outcome and consequences usually folded out from that. She herself knew that better than anyone.

"The village hall has the bunting they generally use for special occasions. We can put that up," Edith said, feeling that it was necessary for her to make a contribution. "Also, I'll go to the printer and get some posters done."

Isobel shook her head and gave Edith a kind smile. "Already arranged," she said, tapping the paper with her pen, pointing towards a line which said _'Posters – 12__th__ January'_. "I visited the printers then, the day after you confirmed that you'd lend a hand. They should be ready by next week, so I must remember to chase that up."

"Gosh, you seem to have everything covered!"

"Well I always have been used to making sure that a schedule is followed. It comes naturally when you're a nurse and your husband's a doctor."

"It's funny you saying that actually. When Sybil came back after her training, she was always following a schedule too. She was very strict with herself. I wonder if she'll follow a schedule with the little one."

Isobel chuckled. "Knowing Sybil she'll plan to follow a schedule, though it'll be scrapped very soon after he or she is here. However much you want your baby to cooperate, they never do. Matthew was awfully troublesome." Isobel smiled and looked towards a framed photograph on the mantelpiece, of Matthew standing proudly against a small child's bicycle at around six or seven years of age. The look upon the older woman's face seemed to suggest that she was back in the 1890s and her son was small and acted as a reminder to Edith as to how time flies so quickly. "Talking about Sybil, I heard your father say that she is considering moving back to England."

Edith nodded. "It's true. She's torn though. I think she'd like to go back, though she's very recently just got settled in. Of course, we'd all rather have her back here. We'd like her to make her decision in the next couple of months, so she can relax, get settles and the baby can be born here."

"I wish that Matthew had had more experience of the countryside when he was little. He loves it now. The city is an excellent home, though sometimes one desires the quieter, peaceful life. I can't imagine why your Aunt Rosamund would like to live in London."

"She enjoys it there. I enjoy staying with her from time to time as the city offers so many things to do and places to visit. I can't imagine myself living there though. However much I hanker for the hustle and bustle of city life I can't imagine myself living anywhere other than the countryside, or here for that matter. As a matter of fact, Aunt Rosamund has invited me to go and stay with her in London next week. I'm not sure what the occasion is though."

"Perhaps she just enjoys your company."

Edith let out a short laugh and shook her head. "I doubt it. She always preferred Mary's company as Mary will willingly attend and enjoy the parties she throws and happily gossip with her." Edith stopped, realising that she was talking about Isobel's future daughter-in-law. "I'm not sure about Sybil's opinion of the place though she must have liked it in some way, beings she is living in a big city right now."

"That's true. Anyway, I hope you have a lovely time."

"I can't help but think she's invited me for a reason though."

Isobel leaned over and patted Edith's arm, giving her a motherly, kind smile. "My dear, everything we do and say is done for a reason. If we allow ourselves to ponder upon the reasons too much, we'll cause ourselves to have a headache."

"That sounds like something Granny would say."

Isobel chuckled. "I actually overheard Cousin Violet say those words at a dinner party recently. Don't tell her I've been spreading her words of wisdom though."

"My lips are sealed," Edith said with a smile.

"All the same, I hope you enjoy your trip up to London, whatever the reason behind your Aunt inviting you is."

"Mama and Granny seem to be of the opinion that Aunt Rosamund wants to play matchmaker," Edith groaned. "I'd rather find someone myself."

Isobel gave Edith another kind smile and patted her hand gently. "Then you find someone yourself dear. London is a place of many opportunities for a young lady like you. Sometimes I wish I was your age right now. Change is on the horizon."

"Now you sound like Sybil."

Isobel chuckled. "Your sister talks a lot of sense and would do well as one of the campaigners for women's rights. It won't be long now until we have the vote."

"Oh I hope so. Before the war I felt I was so conservative, but now, well, things have changed. I'm older now and wiser. I agree with you. I really hope that something happens soon." Edith sighed. "I felt so useless during the war."

"You were very helpful."

"Was I really?" Edith shrugged her shoulders. "All I could do was give the men books and make sure that they were as entertained as possible while they were recovering."

"Why do you not think that is an important job? Many of the men, if not all of them, were grateful that you were there to talk to them and see them through the day. I'm sure they didn't want to see the nurses all the time."

Edith blushed. She supposed that Isobel was right. She remembered one man, Captain Smiley who requested that she assist him in writing a letter to his mother. The man had lost one of his hands and Edith sat with him for about an hour writing out his letter. It seemed that he had much to say and the time which was taken from her may have annoyed her had she been another person, yet she felt her efforts were rewarding. She had made a brave man's life easier and had put a smile upon his face. It could not have been easy for him to ask her for help. She knew that men were proud creatures. After the letter was written she stayed with him for another hour or so, just chatting about his childhood and life before the war, a subject which made him very happy.

"I suppose so. There was," she paused and bit her lip. "There was Patrick."

The pretender still haunted Edith's thoughts. He may very well have been Patrick, though deep down Edith was starting to take the view that the rest of the family held, that the man was nothing more than an imposter who wished to take the fortune. She would have very much liked him to be Patrick and his arrival had cruelly toyed with her emotions, as it made her question whether Patrick had really died on the Titanic at all.

"There there," Isobel said in a comforting manner and reached to pat the back of Edith's hand. "We all know what he was."

"Yet I fell for it."

"By all accounts I've heard that you were close to your Cousin Patrick. The man must have put together a very convincing disguise to be able to deceive you."

"It makes me question whether I knew Patrick well at all."

"Only you know the answer to that."

Edith sighed and said nothing more on the matter. Perhaps she didn't know Cousin Patrick at all. He was, after all, a man after Mary's affections. Mary had rejected him, yet Edith would have taken him. This was a time when she did not mind being second best. She was friends with Patrick, yet she was unsure whether he was attracted to her, in a way which she was to him.

Edith and Isobel's conversation returned to the fundraiser for about another half an hour before it was time for Edith to leave. She had promised her parents that she would be home for dinner. It was strange, Edith thought, that she had to inform and promise her parents such things, when she was a woman of twenty five. She never had been very independent, though she still felt like a child, only people seemed to give children affection, something which was almost alien to Edith, particularly by her immediate family.

The chauffeur, Poole was waiting for her outside Crawley House. He was a haggard looking older man, who always looked very annoyed to be anywhere. Despite this, he was always on time, dutiful and never put a foot out of line, a factor which pleased Lord Grantham, especially after the behaviour of the previous chauffeur.

"You need not have arrived so early. You've probably been waiting around for ages," Edith said, breaking the awkward silence which stretched between her and Poole, despite the noise of the car.

"His Lordship gave instruction for me to be here to pick you up at six o'clock, my Lady," Poole replied briskly.

"And what time have you been waiting outside since?"

"Half past five, my Lady."

Edith pursed her lips and turned her head to look out the window. At least with Branson she could expect some form of engaging conversation. She did not get along with him as well as Sybil did, for reasons which became obvious later, yet she liked Branson and always enjoyed the conversations between them when he was driving her places. She would always have to start them of course, yet his answers would always provoke interesting conversation and thought.

When the car stopped outside Downton Abbey, Edith was eager to get out and away from the boring and ghastly Poole. She realised, with horror that the feelings she felt towards Poole were similar to the ones Mary claimed that people felt towards her.

"There you are," Cora said to her daughter as she walked in through the large front door. It was peculiar for Cora to greet her daughter, rather than Carson who was often at the door.

"Where's Carson?" Edith asked.

"He's busy discussing some matters with your father," Cora replied. "Come into the library. Dinner isn't ready quite just yet. The two of us can talk about London."

Edith followed her mother into the library and found that they were alone. "Where's Mary?"

"She's visiting your grandmother. Poole is picking her up at eight."

"I thought you said that I needed to return home at six?"

Cora smiled as she sat down and nodded. "I did."

"I thought you said that I needed to return home at six because of dinner."

"You will have dinner eventually. I just want to talk to you. Is that a problem?"

Edith sat down opposite her mother and shook her head. It was rare for Edith and Cora to spend much time together and even rarer for the two to engage in intimate conversation.

"No, of course not."

"Splendid," Cora said, her smile widening. "Your Aunt Rosamund telephoned today. She said that she hopes you are still visiting her."

"Why would I not be?"

"I told her that you were still looking forward to it. Apparently there are some people she thinks you'd like to meet."

Edith's brow furrowed as she considered her mother's words. Edith was not at all good with meeting people. She was painfully shy and carried the opinion around that everyone felt that she was a bore. According to Mary, country folk found her dull. To people in the city she would probably bore them to tears.

"Who are these people?"

"Rosamund's sister-in-law is staying with her also. I'm not sure whether you've met her. I did once, at your Aunt's wedding and also at your Uncle's funeral. She is your Uncle Marmaduke's younger brother's wife. Euphemia I believe her name is."

"I can't remember her if I have met her," Edith concluded. "What is she like?"

Cora paused for a moment and gave her daughter a rather awkward smile. "She's very… sharp."

"Sharp?"

"Yes. She always wants to be centre of attention. Rosamund and Euphemia aren't the best of friends, though Euphemia is staying because her son is learning about Marmaduke's business. He'll inherit it all someday."

"So her son will be there also?"

Cora nodded. "Yes. I don't know his name though I believe he fought during the war. He's around your age from what I've heard. He's learning the trade a little later than usual since the war got in the way."

"I see," Edith said. A sudden thought came to her head and she gasped. "Aunt Rosamund doesn't have any ideas in her head about the son and I does she?"

Cora laughed and shook her head as soon as the words had escaped Edith's mouth. "No! Of course not."

Edith could not help feeling wounded. She was aware, as was her mother, that Rosamund had introduced a number of men to Mary and even a couple to Sybil in hope that there would be a match made. She had never introduced a man to Edith. No wonder her mother had laughed; the thought was ludicrous. Edith was thankful that Mary hadn't been around. The rejection of the prospect from her mother would only be intensified by her sister.

"Make sure you have some evening dresses packed, Rosamund said. Some warm clothes too for the daytime."

Her mother's tone was as if she was speaking to a child. Edith had already decided on what items of clothing she was going to pack. She did not need her mother to tell her what she needed to pack.

"I've already made my mind up on what to wear. I'll have Anna pack them tomorrow."

Cora smiled. It was a proud smile, though all be it rather patronising. "You are so organized. I wish I was half as organized as you."

Edith forced a smile in return. When you have hardly anything else to do, Edith thought, being organized is just another way to pass the time.

"Make sure you telephone when you arrive."

"I will."

"Make sure you don't stay out too late."

"I'm not a little girl Mama."

Cora chuckled. "I tell the exact same thing to Mary whenever she's going to stay with Rosamund. You, Mary and Sybil will always be my little girls."

Edith nodded. She wasn't too convinced that her mother gave Mary the same instructions though she could not be bothered to argue. It would get her nowhere.

"Look for a new outfit for the wedding by the way."

Edith internally groaned. She could never go anywhere or speak to anyone without news of the big wedding being discussed. The amount of times it was talked about anyone would believe it was her own wedding, though it seemed to Edith that that day would never come.

"I've seen some pictures of the new fashions and I rather like them. I think I will go for a dress in that style."

"Make sure it's not too short. Your grandmothers are going to be there."

"I'll make sure it's of a reasonable length," Edith replied. She had seen some of the dresses which reached mid-calf and rather liked them. They were a lot looser fitting and looked far more comfortable than the dresses which were in style in previous years. If she had been daring she would have purchased a number of the shorter dresses, though she knew she would be scrutinised for it, which would put her in the centre of attention. She had quickly decided against it.

There was a knock upon the door and Robert walked into the room. "I do hope I am not interrupting anything?"

Cora smiled and patted the seat beside her on the settee and Robert sat down beside his wife. "Not at all, we were just talking about Edith's trip to London."

Robert rolled his eyes. "Ah yes. My sister seems to be rather enthusiastic about you coming to visit her."

Edith had to resist the urge to frown. It was hard to recall an occasion, if there had ever been an occasion at all when Rosamund had been enthusiastic to see her and spend time with her.

"I was just talking to her about picking up a new dress for the wedding."

"Nothing too shot I hope?" Robert said, raising his eyebrows in reproach.

"I have already told Mama that I will choose something sensible in a style which you would all approve of."

"I knew you would," Robert said and his expression changed from a serious glance to a warm smile.

Edith was fed up of being the 'sensible' sister. She imagined that if the conversation she had had with her parents was between Mary or Sybil, they would have had an argument on their hands. Not with her though. She was the one did as she was told and would never even consider putting a foot out of line as far as her parents were concerned. In that moment she vowed to make a change. Change was coming all over. She recalled the conversation with Isobel earlier that day. The coming decade would be one which symbolised change and Edith Crawley was going to change with it.


	3. Chapter 3

When Edith had arrived in London she was surprised at the reception she received from her aunt. Her relationship with Aunt Rosamund had always been civil, yet lacked the warmth and friendship which Rosamund shared with Mary. Edith supposed that was one of the reasons why Rosamund had always seemed to distant to her, due to the fact that Mary seemed to be her favourite. Needless to say Edith was shocked and rather flattered when Rosamund had greeted her with a kiss on each cheek and had treated her as if she was Mary.

"How is everyone back at the big house?" Rosamund inquired over tea. "I suppose that the pressing topic on everyone's tongues is Mary and Matthew's wedding?"

Edith forced a smile and nodded. "Yes. I think they set a date in April."

"That's rather soon. They don't have to rush into anything, though saying that, they have been pining for each other for eight years now."

Edith nodded. "I think they want to have it sooner rather than later because Sybil might be coming back home."

Rosamund smiled. "That is sensible I suppose. Too much hustle and bustle comes with weddings and babies. I'd only know about the former, though the hassle that comes with the latter I've witnessed through the arrivals of you and your sisters." Rosamund took a sip of her tea and nodded. "Yes, it is best they marry soon. In case one of them changes their minds."

"I don't think they will. They both seem rather keen on the idea."

"True. It's not as if they can wait another eight years."

Edith nodded again though did not reply to her aunt's last comment. Rosamund always seemed outspoken and rash. Her involvement with Lord Hepworth just last Christmas had only confirmed the fact.

"When is Sybil's baby due to arrive?"

"Late June I believe. Hopefully it's enough time for her to return home, attend the wedding and get settled before he or she is born."

Rosamund chuckled. "Robert won't be at all pleased with having to address Tom Branson as his son-in-law."

"Papa has no choice. He knows that if he wants Sybil he must have Tom too. There is no other way about it. Mama seems to have accepted it. I suppose she always knew that Sybil was never going to fall for one of the men of our class. She's ever so excited about the baby."

"Cora would be excited about that. And what about my own Mama?"

Edith gave an amused smile. "Granny is just about as keen on the prospect of Tom Branson being a member of the family as Papa is."

"Oh dear," Rosamund chuckled.

"Oh dear indeed."

"What do you think about this Tom Branson?"

Edith shrugged her shoulders slightly. "He is a decent man and he respects Sybil. She is happy with him. Who am I to disapprove of him when he makes her happy?"

"He's a socialist though, or so I've heard."

Edith nodded. "He supports women's rights."

"So do I, but that doesn't make me a socialist. His arrival is sure to stir matters. Though, to be quite honest, he married a lady, far above his station. She had to change for him, I cannot see why he won't do the same for her." Rosamund took a sip of tea. "Though I did think they would wait a while until a baby came along."

Edith blushed and glanced down at her tea. She had heard this on her grandmother's lips as well as thinking it herself. Underneath the innocent enough comment there was a deeper, more intimate meaning. It was a polite way of saying that they would have had to spend a lot of time in bed, in order for such a matter to arise so quickly.

"At least she is happy about it. We all seem to be more or less happy at the moment." The last comment, though, was a lie. Edith was happy about some things, though hardly everything. Mary seemed to be going through one of the happiest times of her life, as did Matthew. Her parents were finally seeing the match they had wanted since 1912 come about and even her grandmother seemed in better spirits.

"What about you though, are you happy?"

Edith's rosy cheeks flushed even darker as she brought her eyes up to meet Rosamund's. "I suppose I am."

"You do not sound very confident."

"Everyone else seems to be moving forward with their lives and yet I am just stuck here, growing older by the minute though not going anywhere." Edith was surprised at herself to revealing this to her aunt. She would never dream of saying such a thing to her mother, at least not anymore. When she had been in her late teens she had often made comments like this and her mother's responses had been very patronizing.

"What did Mama tell you when you made a comment about being a maiden aunt?"

"How do you know about that?" Edith's eyes widened with surprise. She had never thought that Granny may mention the brief conversation they had a few years ago. Despite the time which had passed and everything which had happened in between, Edith remembered the conversation vividly.

"Just answer my question please, dear." Rosamund's smile was kind and in that moment she reminded her immensely of Granny, due to her pressing tone of voice.

"She told me not to be defeatist because it's very middle class."

"So don't be then. You have just as much going for you as you do your sisters, only your sisters did not have to search as far to find someone for them. You may have to broaden your horizons."

"Is that why you invited me to London?"

Rosamund chuckled and shrugged. "Partly. I could not let my niece settle down with Anthony Strallen."

"That never went anywhere," Edith said quietly. It was true, he had kindly rejected her because he felt that he was too old for her. The Pamuk incident had affected her life as well as Mary's. Mary had told Sir Anthony that she had said many unkind things about him and since Mary has a certain charm about her which causes everyone to believe what she says, Sir Anthony had believed her.

"It's because you can do much better. Tomorrow night, when I hold my party, you will meet a number of influential and charming young men, who I believe and others believe, could not settle down with just any ordinary girl."

"Surely you are not thinking of me meeting a suitable and possible husband at your part?" Edith's cheeks flushed again and she glanced bashfully down at her empty cup.

"Mama seems to approve," Rosamund said with a wry smile.

So it had been Granny's idea all along. Edith could hardly be surprised. Her grandmother wanted the best for all her granddaughters, though what Violet Crawley thought was for the best was sometimes quite different to what others believed would benefit. Edith supposed that Granny could never overlook her. Unlike her parents it seemed that Granny really did understand Edith and knew that she was a different woman to Mary and Sybil.

"It was Granny's idea then," Edith stated. "She is like the puppet master of our family. Always pulling the strings, wanting the stories of each character to work out in the way in which she desires."

"Except sometimes the puppets pull back."

Edith shook her head. "Oh no. I am sure that Granny desires the same happy ending as I do." She imagined that her grandmother would hope she'd fall in love with a wealthy and influential young man, of an equal station to her own, or perhaps even above. She would marry in a traditional ceremony which would have been properly arranged by her family and she would wear a conservative wedding dress, opting to pin her hair up rather than cut it short to meet the radical changes and expectations of fashion. Edith would have children with her husband. She imagined that Granny would not be too picky of the gender, though they would have to have at least one boy. They could not be in the same mess as her father was regarding the future inheritance of the earldom. Edith and her husband would meet the King and Queen and would gain the reputation as one of the most respectable families in the country, who strongly supported reverting back to the grandeur of Victorian Britain. Upon thinking about it, Edith thought that while her grandmother may desire Edith to be happy, she may want to do it her own way, just as Mary and Sybil had done.


	4. Chapter 4

Edith found the ambiance around the large circular dinner table somewhat discomforting. It was not as if the company was bad. Conversation flowed easily and it seemed to Edith that it was as if she was seated beside her own grandmother. The elderly lady to her left was Rosamund's mother in law. She was around the same age as Violet, though wore too much rouge on her cheeks and had a rather grating laugh. Nevertheless Edith could not feel uncomfortable seated beside her as her mannerisms and jibes were so much like Granny's, it was as if she was here. What Edith found uncomfortable about the situation was how she could not muster the confidence to join in with the conversation. She was just sitting there, eating her food quietly while the people around her laughed and joked, not bringing up topics of any seriousness at all.

The man to her left was around her own age and Edith concluded that he must have fought during the war. It did not seem to have had much of an effect on him compared to some of the emotional wrecks she had seen when Downton Abbey was the convalescence hospital. His brown curls were still lusty and thick, which is the norm for a man in his twenties. Edith had seen men whose hair had thinned and lost its colour so rapidly during the war years, that they looked at least twenty years older. She wondered that if she was to see the young man's eyes, whether he would carry that haunted look which so many wore after the horrors they witnessed and probably committed on the battlefield. The man was lively and was at ease with everyone.

"I may have to steal your cook Rosamund," a middle-aged woman piped from around the other side of the table.

"I remember you telling me quite a while ago that you had a French cook Euphemia."

So this was Euphemia, the woman Edith's mother had mentioned. She was not an unkind looking woman and her hair was a thick mass of dark curls and her eyes were a piercing green. For her age she was still very beautiful and intriguing and Edith imagined that she had many admirers.

Euphemia waved her hand in dismissal. "I was rather excited about the prospect of having a French cook. Archibald brought her back from France when he went on business a couple of years ago. She's nothing special though, nothing compared to the woman we had before. The woman we had before was stout and from the country, though she was a good cook all the same. She could cook gourmet on day and something rustic the other. We were sad when she announced her retirement."

"She even offered the cook more money though she still would not stay," the woman seated beside Edith stated. "Which is rude. You do not want a rude servant living under your roof."

A quiet chuckle spread across the group and a man called out: "Quite so!"

"So we've got this French woman though I've secretly set my housekeeper the task to find a new one."

"Sounds like something from the secret service Mama," the man who was sitting beside Edith said. His voice was not damaged by smoke or gas as many other's had been. He spoke as if he was a carefree boy. Edith concluded that if he was Euphemia's son, then he was the man Cora had mentioned. He was the man who Edith had wondered whether Rosamund was trying to pair her with. The woman seated the other side of Edith must be his grandmother.

"Robert has a good cook. What's her name Edith?" Rosamund asked, directly acknowledging Edith for the first time.

Twelve pairs of eyes turned to glance at her and Edith flushed. "Mrs Patmore," she said, hoping that her voice was not too strained or week. Feeling that she should say more, she added: "She is from the country too and she's very good. Papa always says that we are lucky to have her."

Just as quickly as the eyes had turned towards her they turned away. Edith stared down at her plate and cursed herself for being so awkward.

"What does she cook then, your good cook?" The man at her left asked. Edith looked up and flushed again. She had not studied him closely until now. His eyes were as bright as his mother's and he had a wide smile.

"Everything," Edith said quietly as she could feel the tingling sensation of her cheeks growing even redder.

"Everything in the world?" The man asked as he raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. "Absolutely everything? Bugs like the Aborigines eat and people like some of the savage tribes?"

He was making fun of her. Edith was not surprised. Her answer had been blunt and had made her appear to be stupid. "Well, perhaps not everything though she seems to have an endless collection of recipes."

"Maybe your Mrs Patmore should come and teach the cook we have some lessons."

Edith suddenly found herself laughing and the man laughed with her. "I hope you're not laughing at me," he teased.

Edith shook her head and continued to laugh, despite trying to stop herself. "It's rather funny isn't it? The first topic of conversation we have is about cooks of all things. We haven't even had a proper introduction."

He forced himself to try to keep a straight face though quickly found himself laughing again. "I'm Rupert."

"I'm Edith."

"Lady Edith," he said with a polite nod of his head.

"How do you know that I'm Lady Edith?"

He shrugged. "I'm usually good at guessing. You're Rosamund's niece anyway and I'm her nephew."

"In a way it sounds as if we are brother and sister."

He sniggered and bit the corners of his mouth in an attempt not to burst into hysterics. "I would be very concerned if we were brother and sister, Lady Edith."

"Why is that?"

He shrugged and gave her a good natured grin. "Forgive me, Lady Edith. With a head and mind as vast as mine, one can often get lost inside it."

"I do that too," she said as she returned the smile. "Sometimes I get lost in my own thoughts so much I do not notice how much time goes past. It is only when I suddenly snap out of my own little world that I notice I am sitting in the near dark."

"It seems that we are perhaps two of a kind in that regard." His blue eyes met hers and she noticed how surrounding his eyes were small wrinkles. It was not as if he was old. Rather, Edith thought, it must be down to how much he smiles. When people smile in a genuine manner their eyes always wrinkle in the corners. Perhaps Rupert smiled so much that the laughter lines had etched themselves into his visage at all times. However, when Rupert glanced towards his mother his eyes narrowed and the smile started to fade. She was chatting with animation to a man who must have been around ten years her senior, yet he was still handsome; handsome enough to still attract attention.

"Your father?" Edith offered.

Rupert shook his head and forced a smile. "My father is away on business, as he is often. He's in Prague at the moment I believe."

"Did your father take over Uncle Marmaduke's enterprise when he died?"

Rupert nodded. "Yes." He rolled his eyes and suddenly his tone was dripping with sarcasm. "And one day it will all be mine. My father keeps on pressing me to learn the trade, though I would rather spend my time doing something else."

"That is often the case in life."

"I agree," he said as he glanced over to his grandmother. He leaned in slightly closer to Edith and motioned her to do the same. The distance between them was still respectable, though Edith doubted that anyone would notice them chatting anyway as everyone else was so deeply engrossed in their own conversation. His grandmother was currently chatting to the gentleman to her other side and she had not seemed to notice her grandson talking to Edith. "My grandmother wants me to take matters more seriously. She does not believe that it is fair on my grandfather, her husband, who worked hard all his life for the business. While he was still alive Uncle Marmaduke became a banker. He took up the business when my grandfather died and that is why Aunt Rosamund continues to live a life of luxury. Father looked to Uncle Marmaduke for example and continues to work as hard as he did. We hardly ever see him. He was a banker too, though decided to focus entirely on the business when his brother died. That's why he's away in Prague. Well, at least I think he's there. When I take over the business, which I hope is not for many years, I'll get someone else to do all the nasty bits for me. I haven't got a head for accounts and money. It's so frightfully dull."

"What do you have a head for?" Edith found herself intrigued by him. She found herself wanting to know more about him. Rupert was interesting and he was talking to her, and her alone.

"Books mainly," he said as he shot her a wry smile. "I take after my mother."

"I read a lot too. It's so nice to get into someone else's head for once and into someone else's story rather than your own."

He looked at her curiously for a moment before nodding in agreement. "Do you have any favourites?"

"Well I like the classics, of course. Austen and the Brontë sisters, but recently I have found myself reading some very recent works. Have you read any Wilfred Owen?"

He did not answer straight away. Instead his expression seemed to grow darker and his jaw clenched. "No I don't read any of that." His reply was so blunt that it almost made Edith gasp in astonishment. His behaviour was so contrasting to how it had been before, Edith was surprised that others around the table had not noticed.

"Oscar Wilde is wonderful though," he said suddenly. His quick revert back to how he had been a moment before shocked Edith more than his turn had. He gave her a wide smile again. "He made me want to call any son I may have in the future Oscar and my dog is already named Dorian. It was such a shame what happened to poor old Wilde in the end, though it's not a conversation for the dinner table."

Edith nodded in understanding. She was aware of Oscar Wilde's crimes, though how they could be classed as crimes she really did not know. "Poor old Wilde." She repeated, turning to give Rupert a sad smile.

He nodded. "We can talk about poor old Wilde another time. My grandmother may hear and chide us for the supposedly lewd conversation we are having at the dinner table. My Mama may congratulate us though. She's a dreamer and thinks everyone should be able to do as they wish."

Edith turned to glance towards Euphemia. She kept up with the latest fashions, indicated by her choice of dress. She was not dressed indecently. Neither was she a woman dressed as someone twenty years her junior. Euphemia still looked graceful and beautiful, yet there was a fire in her which her son seemed to admire.

"Does your mother support pressing causes then?

"Indeed she does. She was against the war and protested against it. She even wrote articles condemning it, though my father did not approve. Mama tried to send them to national newspapers though they would never accept them. There was a piece written in one paper in 1915 which received rather a lot of criticism from people. That was when they were all for it." He paused and frowned as he realised he was discussing the war again. "She has good friends in Germany anyway and it was difficult for them to keep in correspondence. She also supports the women's rights movement. Do you support that?"

Edith nodded. "Yes I do. It's only fair. My cousin and sister also support it. I think the other women in my family may be slightly more conservative."

"Well, a lot of young men support it too. Why shouldn't women be allowed to vote? Why shouldn't they have high places of command in the workplace?" He chuckled. "Believe me, it would be so much easier for all if women were treated the same. Those who aren't letting the women have their own way are getting themselves into deep trouble. I'd happily march along with you ladies to get the job don't."

"My sister would be the best of friends with you by now. She'd be already arranging the dates and times for the next rally."

He chuckled. "Never mind your sister. Why can't we be the best of friends? You've talked and talked with me and you haven't made me bored. That's a rare thing."

Edith blushed and smiled at him. She realised that he was perhaps flirting with her. The concept was alien to her, yet it excited her. Moreover, she wanted to flirt back. Maybe Rupert was thinking that she was being flirtatious and she was like this with every other man she spoke to. That shocked her. Perhaps he liked her smile or the way she blushed. Perhaps, Edith thought, she wasn't as dull as she thought after all.

"We barely know one another."

"Best change that straight away!" Rupert said and glanced around. "Ah, dessert!"


	5. Chapter 5

When the guests had finished their meal, Rosamund led them into the parlour, where the conversations could continue and those who were not seated next to one another at the table could mingle together. Edith found herself away from the conversation again, yet was not completely isolated as she feared she may have been. Rosamund was chatting to the Rupert, the two laughing with one another as if they were firm friends. Rupert's grandmother was seated beside a young gentleman, who looked rather afraid to have sat down beside such a sharp elderly lady. It was rather amusing to Edith to see him jump slightly as if he was startled whenever she directed a question towards him.

"Lady Edith Crawley." Edith turned to see who had addressed her and found Euphemia appraising her with sharp, green eyes. "Do you know who I am?"

Edith flushed and nodded. "You must be Euphemia." She spoke as if she was making a presumption, though she was fully aware of who the woman standing before her was. "You are married to Uncle Marmaduke's younger brother."

"You were talking to my son during dinner." Her tone was blunt, yet not unkind. "And yes, you're right. I am Euphemia."

"Yes." Edith's blushed darkened and Euphemia chuckled slightly. "I was talking to your son."

"He seems rather taken with you, though he always is very good at talking to people. He likes people."

Edith nodded as she watched Euphemia's gaze move over to her son's, who seemed to be doing an impression of someone, causing Rosamund and the guests around him to erupt into laughter. "He's not like his father. He's not serious enough to be anything like his father and for that I am very grateful." Euphemia turned back towards Edith and took in her attire. "I like your dress. Is that in the new style?"

"Yes. I thought it was a good idea to purchase something new for when I came to visit my aunt."

"It is London, after all. You do have to keep up with things. I find myself having to buy a new gown every day. Well, it seems like I have to buy a new one each day. Fashion is changing faster than I can keep up, though maybe I'm just getting old. Though maybe it's just catching up with us after the slow years which we've just come out of." Euphemia smiled at Edith and shrugged. "Either way, it keeps me on my toes."

"I'm not used to rushing around after the latest trends. Fashion and life in general in the country moves so much slower than it does in the city."

"Are you saying that country life is not to your liking? Is it too dull for you?"

Edith gave Euphemia a small smile. "Not dull I suppose. I'm just used to it."

"I'm used to life in the city and I'm bored of it. I don't suppose I ever will be. There are clubs springing up everywhere, apparently taking after what is happening in America. Of course there's Prohibition over there now and we're all hoping that Britain doesn't follow suit." Euphemia took a sip of her wine and gestured to the people around her. "Can you imagine what it would be like if there wasn't any alcohol to make a party a party?"

Edith nodded. She probably did not drink as much as the older woman beside her did, yet it was difficult to imagine a party without any form of alcoholic beverage. "My grandmother is American. No doubt she is upset about it all."

"Your grandmother would be a fool if she was not. It's only going to cause more trouble. I thought the Americans were supposed to be exciting. Now they are just coming across as dull Puritans. Anyway, here's to alcohol and good times." Euphemia held up her glass as a toast. Edith did the same and they drank to it. Although Edith was not used to socialising with people like Euphemia, she could not help feeling happy that someone who seemed so exciting had taken an interest in her.

"How are your parents?" Euphemia asked. "It's been years since I've come across Robert and Cora."

"They are quite well. I will tell them you asked about them."

"The last time must have been around 1905. It makes me feel old thinking about how many years have passed since then, though in a way I don't feel old at all." She took another sip of drink and smiled. "You and your sisters did not attend. Neither did your grandmother. I remember her from Marmaduke and Rosamund's wedding. She did not seem too keen on any of us, particularly my mother-in-law." Both their gazes turned towards where the elderly Mrs Painswick was still in conversation with the young man, who now had the startled look of someone under the inquisition. "Not that that is anything hard to believe. Dear Mildred can get rather, difficult, at times."

Edith had to stifle her laughter. She was aware that her own grandmother could be difficult when she wanted to be. Violet Crawley was not a woman who many made firm friends with, though once you were under her wing, she was a loyal and most valued companion. Edith wondered whether Mildred Painswick was the same, yet she did not want to find out for herself.

"You were talking to my son during dinner," said Euphemia as she changed the topic of conversation again, repeating the words she spoke when she first came over to converse with Edith. "I hope he did not trouble you."

Edith shook her head quickly. "No! Not at all. He was very pleasant. We talked about books. It's nice to meet someone with a passion for literature."

"Did he bring up Oscar Wilde?" The tone of Euphemia's voice indicated that Rupert brought up the man often, almost too much for her liking. He was, after all, a controversial figure, even though he had been dead for over two decades.

"Yes he did. He told me that his dog is named Dorian."

"He dotes on the thing," Euphemia said as she glanced towards her son, giving him a small, yet fond smile. "Don't tell him I've called the dog a thing though. He wouldn't like that. When we return home he'll go straight to his room and make a fuss of it."

"My father's the same. He loves his dog. She went missing over Christmas. It seemed that his heart was breaking each passing moment she was away," Edith recalled. It was difficult to see her papa react in such a way. For all he knew, Isis could have gone forever. She remembered how her cheeks hurt from smiling when he brought her in to show her mother and sister that Isis was home safely.

"They aren't called man's best friend for no reason and Dorian has been a good friend to my son."

"What breed is he?"

"An Alsatian. He brought him back with him in a little bundle. Rupert said that he'd found him by the side of the road."

Edith did not question the exact location of where Dorian had been found. She knew that it was overseas and he would have been brought home probably when Rupert was on leave. Edith could tell that Euphemia was thinking of the war. Just the thought of it brought a strange, distant look to everyone's faces, even if they had not seen the horrors themselves. It was dreadful to imagine what must have been going through the minds of those who had witnessed the monstrosities first hand.

"I do hope my mother is not causing any trouble," came a voice from Edith's left. She turned and saw Rupert smiling down at her, a carefree expression on his handsome features. "I know what she's like."

Euphemia chuckled and shook her head. "We were just having a nice conversation and I don't cause trouble."

Rupert laughed and rolled his eyes in jest. "I'll take your word for it this time." He looked over to where he had just been standing. "We were just having a little chat about the new clubs opening. Have you heard about them Lady Edith?"

"We were only just talking about them actually."

"They sound rather exciting, don't you think?"

Edith could feel her cheeks starting to redden slightly. "I'm not really familiar with the scene. I am willing to give it a try though. It would be a shame to miss going to one while I am in London. I don't know when I'd get the chance to go again."

Rupert's smile widened. "Perfect. My friends and I are going to one the night after next. You would be welcome to join us."

"I am not entirely sure what my parents would think of it though, my father especially."

Rupert nodded and his expression became slightly serious, yet there was still a glint of pleasure in his green eyes. "I understand. Parents can be like that sometimes. My own father turns his nose up at the scene nowadays quite a lot."

Euphemia laughed and shook her head. "I cannot understand why. There were times when we all liked to try new things. Even your grandmother did at some point." Euphemia turned and gave Edith a rather mischievous grin. "Remember that for when you are old. When you turn your nose up at whatever the young folks get up to remember that you were young once and liked to embrace new things. That way you will not be viewed as a miserable old bore."

Edith forced a smile though it made her conscious of how people seemed to view her. She was already seen by many as boring and miserable. She only needed to be old to complete the set. "The club will be rather fun. I will tell my aunt and have a car take me there."

Rupert shook his head. "Oh no. I couldn't allow you to go on your own. My friend drives himself around and there is room for one more in the car. You can be my guest. You need not worry about who would travel with us. There's James, he's the driver and then there's Catherine, she's his beau, of sorts. I think James' cousin Will is coming too, though he often backs out of this sort of thing at last minute due to conflicts in his schedule." He spoke about Will with slight sarcasm, as if there was something more than just his schedule. "And then there's you and I. How does that sound?"

"I am sure that Lady Edith cannot comment on how something sounds when she barely even knows the people and she barely even knows you for that matter," Euphemia commented, though kept the smile on her face.

"Well, we shall just have to get to know each other better, will we not, Lady Edith?"


End file.
